Red String of Fate
by KatBauer
Summary: There's a protocol to be followed in this situation, he knows there is because that was part of his training. "What to do in case of finding soulmate."
1. Red String of Fate

He knows it the moment his eyes meet hers.

She's toying with the cuff of her purple sweater, back leaning against the wall of the interrogation room he's keeping her in. And suddenly, there's this _pull_ on his wrist, that nearly causes him to trip and fall.

(There's a joke to be made here about falling in love, but honestly, he's too embarrassed to even try.)

She smirks at him and arches her eyebrows, apparently finding this whole situation rather amusing.

(But he can see her rubbing her wrist now, and the way she keeps nervously chewing on her bottom lip while intently staring at him, tells him that she probably knows, too.)

He clears his throat and pretends to have never felt anything. No pull, no ridiculous red string of fate. He's having none of it. Not today.

Not when he has an interrogation to conduct and a job to get done.

(_Bad luck Ward_, he thinks. Finds soulmate, she's the prime suspect in the case he's been assigned to. Typical.)

He watches her in silence and she squirms a little under the intensity of his gaze, but she doesn't look away. She doesn't even _blink_.

"So, how's your wrist?" she asks with a casual tone, and he's momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of the question (oh god, _she does know_). There's a protocol to be followed in this situation, he knows there is because that was part of his training.

(_"What to do in case of finding soulmate."_)

But he can't, for the life of him, remember any of it.

And he can't take his eyes off of her, either.

Abruptly, she leans forward and grabs his wrist, and he's so shocked by it all that he doesn't even try to pull away from her.

(Not that he could, anyway. He's already doomed.)

She tugs at his sleeve and reveals the thin, bright red mark that now encircles his left wrist.

_The string of fate._

She smiles triumphantly and releases him, and he has to refrain himself from making a noise of protest, the feeling of her fingertips leaving a tingly sensation on his skin.

She lifts her left arm then, sleeve rolled up the enough for him to see the matching red mark around her wrist.

"What now?" she asks, and she sounds almost _scared_.

"Now," he says, slowly, carefully, and suddenly making up his mind. "Now we get out of here."

**xxx**

They drive for hours that day, getting as far away from the city as possible, and only then it occurs to him that he knows absolutely nothing about the girl currently sitting next to him in the car.

(_His soulmate._)

Of course, there's the intel he was provided with to get the job done, but it was only enough to cover his bases and bring the girl in for questioning without any complications. There was only one name, no job description and no information whatsoever about her family or any possible alive relatives.

Nothing.

He is, quite literally, throwing his entire life away for a girl he kidnapped from a van under SHIELD's orders, barely twenty four hours ago.

(He's not sure what's more terrifying, the fact that he's giving up everything just to be with her or the fact that he feels absolutely no regret.)

She shifts in her seat then, and the movement catches his attention, pulling him out of his thoughts. She's facing him now, her big brown eyes searching his face, looking for something.

(He doesn't know what, but he suddenly, oddly, feels _naked_.)

"Are you sure about this?" she finally asks, and he can feel the uncertainty in her voice. "Because there's no going back, you know that, right?"

"I have to keep you safe," he answers, and he immediately winces inwardly, realizing how desperate he probably sounds. She cocks an eyebrow at that, but doesn't say anything. "Your work with the Rising Tide put you right in the middle of SHIELD's radar. You pose a threat to the organization, and there are only two ways to handle threats."

"Is one of them the easy way?" she asks with a cheeky smile.

"No."

"Oh," she gulps, her face falling, and for a moment she looks so vulnerable _and tiny_ next to him, it makes his heart ache with the overwhelming need to protect her, to comfort her.

(What has he gotten himself into?)

"Hey," he says softly, reaching over and placing a hand on top of hers. "I won't let anything happen to you."

And if the bright, almost blinding smile she gives him is of any indication, she believes him.

**xxx**

They arrive at one of his safe houses a few hours later, and despite the exhaustion, he can't help but smile fondly at the way her eyes widen as she takes in the small cottage in front of them, partially hidden behind thick bushes and trees.

"You live here?" she asks, climbing the stairs to the porch while running her hand along the wooden railing.

He shakes his head. "It's a safe house. We should be fine for a few days."

"And then what?"

He has no answer to that.

She waits for him to fish the key out of his pocket and once inside, she wrinkles her nose in concentration as she carefully begins to inspect the sheet covered furniture and the locked windows.

"This place needs a serious makeover. Like, extreme edition," she comments, lifting the sheet that covers the couch to take a peek under it.

"It's a safe house, Skye. We're not meant to stay here for long," he explains, and she rolls her eyes at him.

"Doesn't mean we can't make it more home-y."

He decides to ignore her comments for the time being and instead, he shows her the rooms upstairs. There are only two, so there aren't exactly many options to choose from. Still, she picks the one with the view to the backyard and the king sized bed, and he lets her.

(As if he could deny her anything.)

(He's so screwed.)

They spend a good chunk of the afternoon cleaning the entire place (making it look home-y-er, Skye says) and by the time they're almost done, Skye's tummy is rumbling and she's whining loudly about starving and needing a break from all the dust.

"How about breakfast for dinner?" he offers.

"That depends. Can you make pancakes?" she asks with a hopeful smile.

And so pancakes he makes.

**xxx**

"So what _does_ this mean?" she asks, holding her left hand in front of her face as she examines the red mark around her wrist with critical eyes.

It's dark and cold outside, and they are both comfortably sitting on the couch, buried under a pile of warm blankets, after Skye insisted on watching a movie as some sort of bonding exercise. The movie is still playing, but neither of them are paying much attention to the tv, anyway.

He stares at her now branded skin, and then, following an impulse that he has no idea where it came from, he gingerly grabs her wrist and brings it up to his lips to kiss the mark.

She's silent as she watches him, and just when he thinks he's done something remarkably stupid and crossed all the boundaries to ever exist, she shifts and curls into his side, tucking her head under his chin and draping an arm over his stomach.

He freezes, unsure of what his next move should be or if he should even make a move at all, and too terrified of screwing it all up. But she sighs, nuzzles his chest and gives him a soft, reassuring squeeze, and he instantly relaxes.

(It feels almost as if she _knew_ what is going through his mind.)

"You didn't answer my question," she reminds him softly.

"You already know what it means," he says tentatively, trying to figure out what is it that she really wants to know.

She huffs, impatient. "Red string of fate, when you find the one, a red mark shows up on your left wrist that looks like a string, and if you're very, _very_ lucky, you also get the name of the other person."

She takes a deep breath then, and rests her chin on his shoulder so she can look at him. "What I want to know, is what does this mean for _us_."

(And there it is. The million dollar question.)

"I don't know," he admits after a long pause. "All I know is that now that I found you, I can't let you go. I have to keep you safe."

"Because SHIELD will come after me?"

"No," he says quietly. "Because I need you."

And that's the thing about soulmates, he thinks. Here's this girl, whom he met hours ago, whom he knows nothing about, and yet, one simple touch from her can either calm him down or make his heart pound in his chest. He's bounded to her, literally and figuratively, and he's never felt more free in his entire life.

He looks at her and he just _knows_.

(This is it. This is _the one_.)

This tiny girl now peacefully asleep in his arms, is a complete stranger, and yet, he can't help but feel that he's finally home.

(_Finally_.)


	2. Alight

**A/N:** Ask and you shall receive. Or something like that. Happy, happy birthday, Jenn aka **snarkysweetness**! :)

* * *

"Do you regret it?" she asks when he sits down next to her on the porch's steps that afternoon. She doesn't need to clarify, he understands exactly what she means, and she knows it. Just like she knows what his answer is going to be.

She can _feel it_.

It's a rather irksome thing, at times. How they can both read eachother like they're open books, and just know how the other is feeling without the need to use any words.

It's only been a couple days, but the bond they share is already deep and strong.

(And somewhat terrifying.)

"No," he says, his voice breaking through her thoughts. "Do you?"

"It was pretty impulsive, even for me," she answers, and when he doesn't say anything else, they both remain silent for a while.

"I never thought I'd get a soulmate," she finally says, and her voice is quiet now, laced with a certain sadness. "I'd heard of them, but-" she shrugs, eyes fixed on the swaying tree branches in an attempt to avoid his gaze.

"Why?"

"I was never a good fit, didn't think anyone would want me," and she can tell by the way he's looking at her now, that he knows there's more to it. Much, much more. But he doesn't push it, and she's thankful for that.

"What about you?" she asks.

"I always wanted to have someone," he says, carefully choosing his words, as if he were afraid to say too much all at once. "Someone I could take care of, and-," he stops, and the wave of embarrassment coming from him hits her in full force. "And love," he finishes.

"That explains it," she says. And when he gives her a confused look, she chuckles, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He makes a noise of protest and swats her hand away, but she doesn't mind, she finds it adorable.

"I wanted someone to love me, and you wanted someone to love."

"We're a good fit," he says softly after a while, sliding an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer.

"Yeah," she smiles, leaning against him. "I guess we are."

**xxx**

"I need a computer."

"Good morning to you, too," he says, turning around to give her a slightly disapproving look. And it would actually work, if it wasn't because he's currently wearing an apron while holding a spatula, and giving off this incredibly _domestic_ vibe that makes Skye bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"I'm serious," she insists, raising her eyebrows for emphasis. "I _need_ a computer."

She hops onto the counter and dips a finger in the batter, this time earning a glare from him. She childishly sticks her tongue out at him in response and then proceeds to lick the batter off her finger.

"You confiscated mine, remember?"

"No, _SHIELD_ did," he points out, moving the bowl away from her reach.

"Same difference."

"There's a small town about two hours from here," he says thoughtfully, considering their options. Or almost lack thereof. "We could take a small trip and restock our supplies."

"Two hours? Are you serious?"

He sighs, exasperated. She's always the impatient one. "The point of safe houses is to be as isolated as possible so unwanted people won't find you."

But she's giving him the puppy eyes now, coupled with a spectacular pout, and his expression instantly softens at that.

"Alright, yeah," he says, giving in. "First thing tomorrow."

He rolls his eyes as Skye wriggles around on top of the counter in a happy dance victory, but the corners of his lips are quirked up in a tiny, tiny smile.

**xxx**

"I thought you said you needed a _computer_," he says.

Skye turns around, the box of her new laptop safely tucked under one arm and a bag full of other random stuff on the other.

"What?" she asks, and when he gives her bag a pointed look, she scoffs. "I need _things_, okay. Or did you forget the part where I'm _a girl_?"

He stares at her, face blank, and to his credit, he seems completely unfazed by her comment. "I didn't know girls needed gummy bears, Cocoa Puffs, and," he leans down a bit to examine the contents of the basket, and then looks back up at her, incredulously. "_Rainbow socks_?"

"It's freaking freezing in that damn house. And I got white ones, too!" she protests when he grabs a handful of socks and carelessly tosses them back into the shelf.

"No one needs that many."

Skye rolls her eyes and waits until he's gone before grabbing the socks again and putting them back inside the bag.

(He'll thank her later.)

**xxx**

Skye had tried, she really had.

She had gone up to her room with her computer, she had sat on the bed, and she had gotten about half an hour of relative peace before it had started.

_Again._

It would happen every time he wasn't around.

She'd start to feel restless and anxious, and she would get this feeling of longing that would claw at her insides and choke her until it was almost impossible to breathe.

(It was like a piece of her was missing.)

Closing her computer with a frustrated sigh, she slides it under her pillow and makes her way down the stairs. And sure enough, the moment her eyes land on him, all the restlessness, all the longing instantly fade away and she feels lighter, like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

(She feels _whole_ again.)

She flops down next to him on the couch, curiously eyeing the papers scattered in front of him on the coffee table, and makes sure to be as close to him as possible. She tucks her feet under the cushions, and her knee presses against his thigh.

"Are you alright?" he asks with concern, pushing the papers aside and giving her his full attention.

"I am now," she answers with a sigh when he places a gentle hand on her knee and squeezes it.

He nods in understanding, and she knows he feels the same way. He's just trying really hard to give her space, to not overstep on any boundaries. But deep down, she knows that being apart hurts him just as much. He's simply better at hiding the pain.

"It gets worse during the night," he says after a moment.

"I know. Stupid nightmares," she mutters, curling into his side.

"You have them, too?"

"They're all about losing you, in some horrible way," she says, her voice cracking slightly, and of course he notices right away. He leans back and pulls her into his arms, his hand rubbing her back soothingly.

"It's the soulmate thing, isn't it? You feel it, too?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I didn't want to make things worse."

"Ward," she says, pulling back just a bit to look at him. She places a hand on his chest, fingers splayed over his heart, and gives him what she hopes is a stern look. "This isn't one sided, it's not just happening to you. I need you just as much as you need me."

He stares at her for a long moment, and just like when they first met, she holds his gaze with determination. He shakes his head then, and shifts them until he's cradling her against his chest, hand still rubbing her back.

"Thank you," he murmurs, kissing her forehead.

**xxx**

Skye doesn't remember exactly what happened, but she's pretty sure that at some point, she must have fallen asleep on Ward, because next thing she knows, she's in her bed and he's tucking her in.

He flicks off the light, and just when he's about to leave, she grabs a hold of his wrist and tugs.

"Don't go," she says.

He hesitates at first, but when she tugs at his hand once more, he gives in and slips into bed next her, arms wrapping securely around her. And Skye could swear that the moment her forehead presses against his chest, she hears him sigh with relief.

She understands. She really, really does.

In her half asleep state, she thinks she's never felt safer in her life. He's warm, and _firm_, and a familiar, comforting presence that chases all of her fears away.

(But most importantly, he's _hers_.)

Without giving it much thought, she slips her hands under his shirt and presses her palms flat against his stomach, her thumbs drawing soothing circles over his skin. When he shudders under her touch and his body presses against her hands, something inside of her seems to finally break, releasing a flood of emotions that burn everything in their path.

She feels as if her every nerve ending is on fire, the flames licking her bones and her skin, consuming her whole, and then she's alight. Alight with everything that is _him_.

Her hands move to his back, fingertips now tracing his spine up and down, and she hears him suck in a breath.

"Skye," he whispers, his voice almost pleading.

She looks up at him through her lashes, and following an impulse, she kisses the corner of his mouth, a soft hum escaping her when he threads his fingers in her hair and gently tilts her head up just a bit more before his lips brush against hers.

She pushes herself up, wanting more, so much more, and kisses him with everything she has, her heart swelling at the way he kisses her back with just the same intensity.

His hands find hers, but the moment his fingers wrap around her wrists, she cries out in pain and jerks away from him as if she's been burned by his touch.

(And in a way, she thinks she has.)

He sits up immediately, pulling her up with him, and turns on the lamp on the nightstand.

"Skye? Skye, what's wrong?"

She whimpers and shows him her left wrist, wincing slightly when he gingerly takes her hand to inspect her skin. His eyes go wide then, when he sees that where the red string mark is, now interlaced with it, there are two tiny, dark red as blood, letters.

**GW**


	3. I Don't Have A Choice (but I choose you)

Ward rolls onto his side, wide awake, and his eyes land on Skye, curled up in a tight ball next to him as she sleeps. He watches the rise and fall of her chest, the way her hair falls on her face like a curtain and her slightly parted lips, and he has to resist the urge to just lean over and _kiss her_.

Instead, he gently brushes the hair out of her face, tucking the soft strands behind her ear and watches, with a twinge of amusement, as she crinkles her nose a little in her sleep.

The way she's unconsciously cradling her left wrist against her chest is what finally has him making up his mind, and as carefully as he can, he gets out of bed and grabs his duffel bag, taking it downstairs with him.

He fishes the SAT phone out of it and with his brow furrowed in concentration, he dials a number and then waits, holding his breath.

"Yes?"

"Coulson?"

"Agent Ward?"

Ward grimaces at the way Coulson addresses him. "Not much of an agent anymore," he says bitterly.

"You haven't officially filed your resignation yet," Coulson points out. "Where have you been?"

"Off the radar," Ward answers evasively. There's no way in hell he's giving away their location, and he figures Coulson must know this as well because he doesn't press for further details.

"I figured as much," Coulson says with a sigh. "And you took the girl with you."

"Skye. Her name's _Skye_," Ward says. "She- She's my soulmate. I found her."

There's a moment of dead silence on the other side of the line, and Ward finds himself dreading what's to come.

"I see," Coulson finally speaks. "Is this why you decided to call me?"

"There's something wrong with her," Ward swallows, and takes a deep breath, trying to keep himself together. "Last night, something happened to her. She has two marks on her wrist, besides the regular one."

"Two marks?"

"Coulson," Ward says, growing desperate. "Those marks are my initials."

"Is she feeling okay?"

"I think so." He waits for a second, and then asks, "Is any of this normal?"

"She's going to be fine, Ward. But I should warn you that you will experience something similar very soon."

"Sir?"

"Those marks you mentioned, you will get similar ones when the right time comes. That's how the system works."

Ward swallows, and Coulson waits, giving him the time he knows he needs to let the information sink in.

"I'm not coming back," Ward finally says. "It's over."

"I understand. But you need to understand too, that the Rising Tide will not let this one go. They are looking for Skye, and they will stop at nothing to find her."

"So what do I do?"

"Stay off the radar, lay low. You're exceptionally good at that."

"Coulson, please-"

"I know, I will keep this under wraps for as long as possible. But you have to be aware of the risks you're taking. This could cost you everything, Ward."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't care what it costs me. She's all I've ever wanted, and she's mine. I will do whatever it takes to make sure she's safe."

"It's settled, then. You know how to find me, if you need me."

Ward ends the conversation after that and tosses the SAT phone onto the coffee table with a frustrated groan. He rubs his hands over his face, suddenly feeling too exhausted and emotionally drained to even try to think about what Coulson said. He turns around to make his way back to Skye's room, when he sees her standing there, at the bottom of the stairs, looking worriedly at him.

"Hey," he says quietly, an easy smile forming on his lips. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she says. "I woke up and you were gone."

"I had a call to make."

"Oh," she blinks, processing the information. "Are _you_ okay?"

Unable to stand the distance between them anymore, he reaches for her and pulls her into his arms, burying his face in her hair with a deep sigh. "I am now."

When he finally lets go of her, moments later, he gently takes her hand and inspects her now bandaged wrist. "How are you feeling?"

"It still stings a bit," she answers. She knows there's no point in lying to him, he can feel what she feels, and that includes all the good and the bad. If she's in pain, he will know it. That's just how things are now.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "It's my fault."

Skye's eyes widen in disbelief at that, and when she actually feels his guilt, his entire body _choking_ with it, her heart shatters for him.

She takes his hand in hers and leads him to the couch, forcing him to sit down. In a bold move, she straddles his lap, and though he seems a bit surprised at first, his arms automatically wrap around her waist to keep her from falling off.

"You're an idiot," she whispers, taking his face in her hands, and before he can even think of saying anything, her lips are on his and he's a goner.

Her kiss is slow and intoxicating, and soon she can feel him begin to fall apart against her lips, the guilt long since forgotten and now replaced by something much, much sweeter and tender.

By the time they break apart gasping for air, her hands are impatiently tugging at the hem of his shirt and all he can do is comply, unable to deny her anything.

As soon as his shirt is out of the way, she blinks down at him and stares unabashedly, the flush of her cheeks spreading down her neck and heating her skin.

"What?" he asks, slightly breathless.

"Nothing, I just- I mean, I knew you were firm, but _damn_," she says, poking his pecs with her finger.

And then, for the first time since they met, _he laughs_. A deep, genuine laugh that reverberates through his chest, and that makes every inch of Skye's body vibrate with a new wave of emotions.

She's falling fast and hard, and she knows it.

When his laughter finally subsides, he leans forward and presses his lips against the hollow of her throat. "You are ridiculous," he murmurs, his hands slipping under her shirt and running soothingly up and down her sides.

"Dumbass," she retorts, but when his fingertips move just that bit further up her body and he begins to kiss up her neck, her breath hitches, and all she can do is thread her fingers in his hair and tug him closer.

He hums appreciatively, and slowly, torturously slowly, begins to undo the buttons on her shirt one by one, kissing every bit of skin as he uncovers it. When there's only one button left, he pauses to look up at her, waiting, and so she kisses him, tugging on his bottom lip, and that's all he needs to finally ease the shirt off of her body.

And now he's the one doing the staring, and Skye is squirming under his intense gaze, bottom lip worried between her teeth as she watches him expectantly.

Feeling her sudden nervousness and uncertainty as if they were his own, he wraps his arms around her, holding her close, and tenderly kisses her shoulder.

"Stop," he says softly as he brushes her hair back. "You're perfect."

His hands settle themselves on her hips as he takes his time kissing along her collar bone and in between her breasts, and when she cradles the back of his head, urging him on, he can't help but chuckle.

"What?" she asks, trembling when he places a kiss over her heart.

But he doesn't answer, too busy trailing his lips across every inch of skin he can reach, too absorbed in the little breathy noises she's making and in the way she responds to his every kiss and touch.

It's addictive.

It's driving him insane.

"Skye," he mumbles against her chest, eyes fluttering closed as she runs her fingers through his hair, and for a solid minute, all coherent thoughts flee from his mind and words just won't come out of his mouth.

It's not until she lowers her head and, ghosting her lips over his ear, she whispers "Bed?" that he finally remembers how to move.

She stands up then, smirking when instead of following, he simply stares up at her with a dazed look in his eyes. He reaches for her and pulls her to stand in between his legs so he can nuzzle her belly and kiss it, and it's like he can't get enough of her.

"We- We should-," and it's all she can say before the rest of the words get caught in her throat when he gets off the couch and picks her up in his arms, carrying her bridal style back to her room.

**xxx**

"You do know it's rude to stare, right," she says, voice muffled by the pillow. She doesn't even need to look at him, she can feel his gaze roaming over her body just as she can feel his fingertips drawing random patterns on her bare back.

He chuckles, and she finally cracks one eye open.

He's propped up on one elbow, the sheets covering only the lower half of his body and his broad and muscular chest is _right there._ But it's the way he's looking at her, like she's his entire universe, what makes her groan and bury her face in the pillow again to hide the embarrassing blush creeping up her cheeks.

His brow instantly furrows at that, and soon enough, he's hovering above her, placing kisses between her shoulder blades in an attempt to coax her from under the pillow.

"Skye? What's wrong?"

There's actual, serious concern in his voice, and so Skye lifts her head, rolling onto her side as she rubs the sleep off her eyes.

"A girl could get used to waking up to a sight like that."

He blinks, not sure of what to answer to that.

Shaking her head, she places a hand on his chest and lets her fingertips skate over his skin, tracing his muscles as they move further down. But before she can get anywhere, he catches her hand in his and brings it up to his lips to kiss the inside of her wrist.

She's no longer wearing the bandage, and her marks no longer feel like they are burning her skin. All that's left is the red string and the two initials that they both know are his.

"Does it bother you?" he asks, his thumb gently rubbing the marks.

"Nope, it doesn't hurt anymore."

"That's not what I meant," he says softly, and there he goes again, frowning worriedly.

"I know what you meant," she says, shifting closer to him. "Remember how I told you a while ago, that I was never a good fit? I am now. I belong somewhere, to _someone_. And that's all I ever wanted."

"But the marks-"

"They are _yours_," she says, cutting him off. "I know we don't have a choice in any of this, but if we did- If we _could_ choose, there's no one else I'd rather belong to."

"Skye, I-" he shakes his head, a small, almost incredulous smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he stares in awe at her. He releases her wrist and hugs her to his chest, a wave of relief hitting him as she nuzzles her face against his neck.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he says into her hair. "You're safe with me."

(_Whatever it takes._)


	4. Yours

"Are you sure we can't stay?" Skye asks from her spot on the bed, watching as Ward stuffs a messy, wrinkled bunch of clothes into a black duffel bag.

"It's been three weeks. We need to move," he answers without even lifting his head. He opens a drawer, pulls out about a dozen socks and stares at them, brow furrowed in confusion.

(He has to wonder where the hell they came from, since he doesn't remember owning that many.)

Meanwhile, Skye is now downright brooding, clearly still very much displeased with the idea of leaving.

"Staying for too long in one place is too risky," Ward says in that mildly exasperating know-it-all tone he uses sometimes. "You know how it works."

"What makes you think that I do?" she asks without missing a beat.

"Come on, Skye. You were living in a van," he points out, as if the reasoning behind such thing should be obvious by now.

"By choice!"

"And because it makes being on the move easier," he says.

"Is that what SHIELD teaches you?"

"No, I learned that on my own," he answers. "I didn't think you'd like this place that much," he adds, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head where her broodiness keeps hitting him.

"It's the closest thing to a real home I've ever had," she says quietly, feeling a sudden pang of sadness. She tries to push it aside, to swallow it down so he won't feel it too, but she must've not been fast enough because he drops what he's doing and moves to sit next to her on the bed.

"I'm sorry," he says, placing a comforting hand on her knee, but the sadness swirling in his eyes matches hers, and tells her that he's grown as attached to the place as she has.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"Washington. I have an apartment there."

"How many houses and apartments do you own?" she asks, wide eyed.

"Five. Three houses, two apartments, all over the country," he says, and when her eyes widen even more, he shrugs. "When you work for SHIELD, buying safe houses is standard procedure."

"What do you guys even do that has you buying _safe houses_ everywhere," she murmurs, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

"That's classified," he says with a grin, pulling her closer and kissing her temple.

Skye rolls her eyes and shoves him away, trying to hide the smile that tugs at her lips and the butterflies in her stomach when she hears him laugh.

**xxx**

The drive from Los Angeles to Olympia, Washington, takes them almost an entire day, since Skye keeps insisting on stopping every few hours to eat and to stretch her legs, so by the time they finally get to Olympia, they are both exhausted. All Skye wants is to just head to the apartment so she can take a shower and nap for the next sixteen hours.

"We need to get supplies first," Ward says, and Skye gives him the death glare, but he ignores it. "There's no food in the apartment, and we haven't eaten anything since breakfast. Five hours ago," he points out.

"We can go grocery shopping later," Skye whines.

"You'll be starving in half an hour," he says, and before Skye has a chance to protest, he opens the door and without another word, gets out of the car.

"Skye," he sighs, slightly irritated as he knocks on the passenger's window. "Come on."

When she finally opens the door, there's a strange look in her eyes that tells him that whatever it is that's now bothering her, it has nothing to do with groceries.

"Hey," he says, stepping closer and placing his hands on her hips. "Are you alright?"

"I have a bad feeling about this, Ward."

"What do you mean?"

"Can we just- Can we just go to the apartment?"

"Skye, it's okay, there's nothing to worry about. Crowded place, middle of the afternoon… We're good," he leans in, presses a reassuring kiss to her forehead and then takes her hand.

She's not entirely convinced, but she nods anyway and follows him in silence, eyes scanning the streets with dread, the sinking feeling that something horrible is about to happen, gnawing at her insides.

They find a convenience store, a couple of blocks away, and they're about to pay for their things, when Skye's eyes land on two men standing outside in the street. They avert their gazes as soon as they see her staring at them, but it does nothing to help quell her fears.

(They actually get worse. Much, _much_ worse.)

She tugs at Ward's hand impatiently and presses herself against his side. She stands on her tiptoes and with the excuse of kissing his cheek, she whispers into his ear, "We've been made."

His eyes widen just a fraction, but Skye can tell the exact moment when he tenses and switches into full alert mode. He spots the two men, surreptitiously watching them through the glass window of the store, and she sees his hand move to the back of his pants, where he keeps the gun.

"Sweetheart," he says out loud, and Skye has to make an effort not to cringe. "I forgot my wallet in the car. I'm so sorry," he says, turning to the cashier. "We'll be back in a minute."

By the time they both exit the store, the two men are seemingly gone, but Skye knows better than to just assume they're safe.

"What now?" she asks.

"We get out of here."

"I told you I had a bad feeling," Skye mutters.

"Not now, Skye," Ward says through gritted teeth as he leads them through the streets while keeping an eye on the groups of people they keep almost bumping into in their haste.

Ward takes a turn then, and they suddenly find themselves in an alley. He tries to backtrack, but the sound of a metallic click coming from behind them, stops him right on his tracks.

Only then he realizes that it's been a trap all along.

And they just walked right into it.

He slowly turns around, pushing Skye behind him to shield her with his body, and quickly draws his gun out, aiming it to the man standing closer to them. He assesses the situation, and swallows, hard.

Three men, two of them armed and pointing their guns at them, and no way out.

"Just hand over the girl and we will let you go unharmed," the man makes a pause and then smirks at him. "Probably."

So that's what this is all about.

Ward feels a tiny hand press against his lower back, and he instinctively shifts his stance, making sure Skye stays out of their sight the whole time.

"Yeah, that's not how this is going to happen," he says.

"_This_ is none of your business," the man retorts, and by the tone of his voice, Ward can tell that he's starting to lose his patience. "She shoulda thought this one through, before letting SHIELD get involved. The boss is not happy."

Skye swallows the sudden lump in her throat and fists the back of Ward's jacket.

_The Rising Tide_.

She feels waves of sheer anger and hatred coming from Ward, hitting her over and over again until she's nothing but a quivering mess, pressing herself against his back for support.

The two armed men take a step forward and their guns are now pointing directly at Ward's chest, and Skye doesn't need any field training to know exactly what will happen next.

"I shoot, you run," she hears Ward say, loud enough for only her to hear, and she wants to yell at him that there's no way she's leaving him there, but he gives her no time. All of a sudden, he moves, pushes her behind his back and then all hell breaks loose.

In the span of seconds, she hears three shots and _feels_ Ward crumbling to the ground, just like the man in front of him and the one on his right. The pain is searing and she's sure it's going to kill her, to rip her apart right there and then.

She lets herself fall to her knees and pulls Ward's limp body to her, cradling his head against her chest while her trembling hand presses against the bleeding wound on his chest. Her eyes are fixed on the deep crimson rapidly staining his shirt and soaking her hand, and she wants to scream from the white hot pain slashing through her, but just like in her worst nightmares, no sound comes from her mouth.

She thinks she feels a pair of hands grab her by the shoulders and try to pull her up, but she clings to Ward with all her strength, and it's not until she hears the sound of gunfire again that she dares to look.

The man trying to grab her falls dead to the ground just as a black van screeches to a halt in the alley, and three men dressed in suits jump out of it.

"Skye," she hears someone call her name.

"_Skye_," the same voice insists. "It's okay, we can help. Let us help."

She looks up at the man now kneeling in front of her, and when he offers her a small, friendly smile, Skye blinks at him, confused.

The man turns around and signals for the other two to get closer, but the moment they try to take Ward from her arms, the scream that has been bubbling in her throat, finally finds release and then everything turns to black.

**xxx**

When Ward wakes up, he has no idea for how long he's been out.

All he can feel is a dull ache in his chest, and the slight dizziness mixed with the grogginess that he knows come with the pain killers. He blinks, trying to get used to the light, and when his mind is more or less clear and the memories of what happened come rushing back, he nearly bolts from the bed.

"_Skye_."

"Easy there," someone next to him says, and he feels a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down. "She's fine."

He turns his head, and narrows his eyes at the man standing next to his bed. "Coulson?"

"Good to see you, too, agent Ward," he nods, and Ward groans at the word 'agent.'

"Where is she?" he asks.

"I miraculously convinced her to go to the cafeteria to get something to eat," Coulson says. "She hasn't left your side since we brought you both here."

Ward blinks again, trying to remember _how_ they got here and where exactly _here_ is, and Coulson must see the confusion clearly written on his face, because he pats his shoulder reassuringly, and then sits back down on his chair.

"One of SHIELD's medical facilities. You've been unconscious for about twenty four hours," he supplies. "We've been following the Rising Tide's movements for weeks, as you know, and today they led us straight to you," he makes a pause and looks him straight in the eye. "You were lucky we got to you in time. They were about to take Skye."

Ward purses his lips in silent anger, mentally kicking himself for failing to protect her right after he had promised her that he would, and once again, Coulson must understand the conflictive emotions flashing across his face because he shakes his head and places a gentle hand on his arm.

"Don't," he says. "She's safe now, you both are."

There's a long moment of silence, and then Ward asks, "How big is the damage?"

"Bullet wound to the chest, missed the heart for an inch or so," Coulson answers, and something in the older man's voice makes Ward look at him with suspicion.

Something isn't right.

"Coulson, I know how bullets work," he says, and when Coulson doesn't say anything, he frowns. "I should be dead. Why am I not dead?"

"The bullet misse-"

"Don't give me that crap," Ward cuts him off. "I want the truth."

Coulson sighs, defeated. "Look at your left wrist, Ward."

And when Ward does, his eyes widen in utter shock when he sees the tiny, yet very visible 'S' mark, interlaced with his red string.

"You can't die," Coulson says simply, like it's the most natural thing in the world, and all Ward can do is gape at him.

"Not unless it's at your soulmate's hands," he continues, ignoring Ward's undignified noise of surprise. "See, that's a piece of information that SHIELD neglected to give you when you received your training. But in our defense, nothing like this has happened in, at least, a decade. Sure, we have encountered cases of people with red strings, but nothing like this. None of them ever got _these_ kind of marks."

"We thought the system had started to fall, be it because of human evolution or because of _de_volution. Either way, we thought people like you and Skye no longer existed."

"People- People like us?"

"People who share a bond so deep, your lives are literally in eachother's hands. Or should I say, wrists."

Coulson gives him one of his tiny smirks, but Ward's head is spinning with all this information, and he keeps staring, dumbfounded, at the tiny S on his wrist, his index finger lightly tracing it over and over again.

"Did you tell her?" he asks.

Coulson shakes his head. "It's not my place."

Ward opens his mouth to say something, to ask one or all of the hundreds of questions currently running through his head, but is interrupted by a slightly shaking voice.

"You're awake."

Ward's head instantly snaps up and when he sees Skye standing at the doorframe, he feels waves of relief wash over him, but he can't tell if they're coming from her or from him.

Coulson immediately stands up and after patting Ward's shoulder, he excuses himself and promises to come back later. And Ward watches, in surprise, as the man gives Skye's arm a soft squeeze before disappearing through the door.

For what it feels like forever, Skye remains rooted in place, watching him watching her, unsure of what to do, until he softly calls her name and she can no longer bear the distance between them.

She throws herself on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing all over his face, and it's not until he winces that she pulls away with a guilty face.

"Sorry," she mumbles sheepishly.

But he's having none of it. Placing a hand in the back of her neck, he draws her in and kisses her slowly and deeply, savoring every second of it until they're both reeling and breathless, and her face is flushed and her eyes are bright again.

(And he swears she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.)

"I thought I'd lost you," she sniffles, gripping his wrists when he cups her cheeks, his thumbs gently wiping under her eyes to catch the tears.

"Never," he says softly.

Releasing her hold on her, he rolls up his sleeve and shows her the tiny, dark red mark on his wrist, grinning proudly when her trembling fingertips caress his branded skin.

"You're mine," she whispers in awe.

"Skye," he says with a chuckle, threading his fingers in her hair and pulling her in for another kiss. "I've been yours since the moment I saw you."


	5. I Can't Make You Bleed If I'm Alone

**A/N: **I feel like I should add a note with a warning because of the very first scene in which I mention the use of a scalpel, though it really doesn't go any further than that. You know me, you've read my stuff, so you know there are lines I would never cross. This is more of a "just in case" warning to avoid people getting angry at me, because you never know whose susceptibilities you might hurt. 

* * *

He wakes up with a jolt in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweat and heart beating wildly in his chest, the memory of the nightmare still fresh in his mind. So fresh it's like he's still seeing it happening right in front of his eyes.

_She's lying on a metallic table, strapped to it, while people around her talk to eachother in whispers, and he can't hear what they're saying but he knows it's about her._

_One of them, a doctor he assumes, approaches the table and lifts Skye's left wrist, freeing it from the straps and exposing her marks to the rest of the room, while Skye squirms, trying to free her arm from his grasp, but to no avail._

_Her eyes go wide with sheer terror when the man lifts a scalpel and gets dangerously close to her, his fingers curled tightly around her wrist._

_Ward can't move. He wants to scream but he just can't, all he can do is watch in horrified silence as the man digs the scalpel into her skin while telling her that erasing the marks is for her own good, that she will be free once and for all._

_His own skin suddenly feels like it's been set on fire, and the marks on his wrist slowly begin to fade while the room fills with Skye's screams._

He can't breathe, his fingers furiously rub the marks on his wrist as he tries to regain control of his emotions, telling himself over and over again that it was just a dream, that none of it was real.

And just when he thinks he's about to lose his mind, he feels a small hand run along his back and then a pair of soft arms wrap around his torso as Skye presses her cheek against his shoulder.

"It's okay," she whispers, voice thick with sleep. "Grant, it's okay, I'm here."

It's the way his name sounds on her lips, something about how she rarely ever uses it, what finally calms him down and pulls him back to reality, and he allows himself to relax against her, his hands seeking hers and then lacing their fingers together over his stomach.

"The same nightmare again?" she asks.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak just yet. But she knows anyway, he can feel it in the slight trembling of her body against his, his terror having seeped into her like poison. And he berates himself for allowing it to happen again, for not being able to keep himself together and for hurting her.

"Stop," he hears her say. "Grant, I'm okay."

And then she's pushing him back down onto the mattress, wrapping herself around him, the weight of her keeping him grounded like an anchor. "Go back to sleep," she murmurs, kissing his chest.

And so he does.

**xxx**

Things start to change over the course of the following days.

He's not sure _what_ changes, but he knows something isn't quite right.

He can feel Skye starting to distance herself more and more, and she's also found a way to somehow shut him out. He can no longer feel what she feels, and every time he so much as tries, the feeling is the same as if he had hit his head against a brick wall.

It leaves him with a nasty headache and feeling completely disoriented, like he's lost the one thing that was keeping him on the right path, and he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore.

And the day he sees her wrapping a bandage around her wrist, covering her marks as if she were ashamed of them for some reason, that's when he knows something is definitely wrong.

But she still smiles at him, though, she still kisses him and she curls into his side every night, but the walls she's put up around herself prevent him from getting too close.

And it _hurts_ him.

He doesn't push her, and he doesn't ask for any explanations, either. He figures that after everything they've been through, exhaustion is probably catching up to her, and so he decides to simply let her be. To give her the space she clearly seems to need.

She'll come back to him when she's ready.

Until he wakes up one morning, and she's gone.

He looks for her around the apartment, even though he knows it's pointless. He may not be able to feel the connection, but he can still sense her presence, and she's not there.

Panic begins to rise in his chest, and the feeling that _something isn't right_ weighs heavy on him. He starts going through every single possible scenario in his head, analyzing the variables and assessing the different situations.

He calls to mind his training.

_But she's not there._

He takes a deep breath, pinches the bridge of his nose, and figures that if his training is doing nothing to help him, then it's time to let his instinct take over. And so he prays to whatever god is out there listening, that this time Skye will let him in, let him find her.

He leaves the house not ten minutes later, following an impulse. He doesn't stop, not once, and he doesn't pay attention to anything other than to that _pull_ that seems to be guiding him through the streets and exactly to where he needs to be.

He finds her sitting on the steps of a building with a far off look on her face and completely oblivious to everything surrounding her. He stops, dead on his tracks, and when he notices _where_ she is, his heart drops and the entire world seems to come to a sudden halt.

He approaches her slowly, not wanting to scare her, and silently sits next to her.

"Skye?"

His voice seems to finally break her out of whatever trance she was in, and her head snaps in his direction, eyes wide with surprise when she finds him there.

"Hey," he says with a small smile. "Are you okay?"

She stares at him for a long moment and before he can even process what is happening, he finds himself with a lap full of Skye, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder.

"Skye?" he says, holding her protectively against his chest. "What are you doing here?"

When his only answer is a broken sob, terror creeps up his spine and he tries, for the umpteenth time, to reach out to her, to feel what she's feeling so maybe then he will finally begin to understand.

"Skye, what did you do?" he asks with alarm, voice shaking slightly at the myriad of mixed emotions coming from her.

She pulls back, cheeks stained with tears that he wipes away with the pads of his thumbs before cradling her face in his hands.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

He looks around at the hospital's main entrance, and he feels his heart shatter. His hand reaches for hers and he pulls it up, rolling up her sleeve to expose her bandaged wrist.

He gives her a wounded look, but she frees her arm from his grasp and removes the bandage herself, holding her wrist up for him to see her still branded skin.

"I thought-" he swallows and lets his fingertips lightly trace her marks, reassuring himself that they are, indeed, still there. "I thought you had-"

"I couldn't," she says guiltily, shaking her head.

"Why? Why would you even think about doing something like that?"

"I heard what Coulson said," she says, and he stares at her, momentarily stunned into silence. "How you- How _we_ can't die unless we kill eachother," she pauses then, and when he remains silent, she frowns. "Don't you get it?"

"Get _what_, Skye?"

"If the Rising Tide finds out about this, _about us_, what do you think they're going to do? They will torture you until I break down, and they know I will. Just- the thought of you-" she looks away, biting back the tears, while he stares at her in shock, trying to follow.

"So you thought removing the marks was the solution?"

"If you're not tied to me, then they can't hurt you!"

"Then why didn't you?" he asks, a burst of anger exploding inside his chest. "Why didn't you end it all, Skye? Why didn't you erase me, us, like you wanted?"

"Because _I don't want to!_" she says, voice laced with desperation and tears threatening to spill from her eyes once more. "Because I don't want to live my life without you!"

He clenches his jaw and looks away, almost as if he couldn't bear the sight of her anymore, and Skye panics at his reaction. She takes his face in her trembling hands and forces him to look at her.

"_I love you_," she says, as loud and clear as she can. "I could get rid of the marks and that still wouldn't change a freaking thing, it wouldn't change how I feel. I'm not in love with the marks, Ward, I'm in love with you."

He frowns at that, and Skye can feel his doubts and his hesitation looming above their heads like black, stormy clouds, and she has to grip his shoulders to avoid being crushed under their weight.

"Ward," she pleads. "I was just- I was trying to protect you."

She bites down on her bottom lip and slowly begins to get off his lap, only for him to pull her right back into him, his hand cupping the back of her head as he presses his lips to hers in a searing kiss.

"Don't ever do that to me again," he breathes, resting his forehead against hers while his fingers run soothingly through her long hair, and all she can do is nod.

"You really love me?" he asks after a pause, eyes brimming with hope.

In spite of the tears, Skye lets out a soft laugh. "Yes," she says earnestly, and he can feel her entire body humming with her love for him, and the feeling is so strong that it takes him a solid minute to get his own heartbeat under control again.

He presses his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in as relief washes over him, and when she wraps her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly, he knows she understands exactly how he feels.

"God, I love you so much," he murmurs into her neck, his lips brushing against her skin and sending sparks of electricity shooting through her entire body.

"Right back at you," she whispers back. "Can we go home?"

He nods and pulls away from her, his hands on her hips to steady her as she stands up and then offers him her hand to help him up. He takes it gladly, sliding his fingers up to wrap them around her wrist, his thumb rubbing the inside of her wrist with tenderness.


	6. End of the Beginning

"Skye."

"Hmm."

"Coulson called. He'll be here in twenty minutes."

"Hmmno, tellim t'go 'way."

Ward blinks and shakes his head with a chuckle. Really, he should know better by now than to try to make any sense of Skye when it's barely six in the morning.

She curls further into his side, head tucked under his chin and an arm draped over his torso almost possessively. And to make it worse, her legs are all tangled with his, to the point where he can't tell where she ends and where he begins.

There's no way for him to get out of bed.

(He _doesn't want_ to get out of bed.)

He trails his fingertips up her spine and neck, making her squirm a little, and tangles his hand in her hair, twisting the soft strands around his fingers.

"Skye," he tries again, and this time, she cracks one eye open and sighs.

"Why?" she whines.

"He said something about a job offer," he says quietly, _too_ quietly, and the tone of his voice immediately grabs Skye's attention.

She uncurls and stretches like a cat, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at him, and Ward has to resist the urge to pull her back into his chest again.

"What kind of job?"

"He didn't give me any specifics," he shrugs.

"You're worried," Skye says, and it's not a question, it's a statement.

"I said I was done with SHIELD, that I wasn't coming back, and I made that clear," he says. "Whatever he has to offer, he's wasting his time."

Skye is silent for a long moment, so long that he has to turn his head to look at her to make sure she didn't actually fall asleep again. But no, she's staring at him with concerned eyes and a thoughtful expression that for some reason, makes him twitch nervously.

"Just hear him out," she finally says, placing a hand on his chest, and he slowly begins to relax again when he feels the soft, soothing waves of energy radiating from her touch. "He cares about you, _that_ much is clear. So, why not?"

**xxx**

"So…," Skye says, clearing her throat rather uncomfortably. "What's so important that it couldn't wait until noon?"

Coulson gives her a slightly amused look, or an exasperated one, Skye can never tell with this man, and then he simply says, "I'm putting together a select team to work new cases, and I would like you to join said team."

A heavy silence falls upon the room after that, and when the words finally sink in, Ward is the first one to speak.

"No," he says firmly.

"Ward-"

"Look, Coulson, I appreciate the offer, but I already told you, it's over."

Skye shifts next to him while her eyes dart from Coulson to Ward and back to Coulson, the tension coming from Ward making her feel somewhat uneasy and restless.

"You didn't let me finish," Coulson then says, and this time Skye is sure he's looking positively exasperated. "I want _both of you_ to be a part of this."

Well, that was unexpected.

"Me?" Skye asks, taken aback. "Why me?"

"I know the things you can do with just one laptop and from a van," Coulson says. "Imagine what you could do with SHIELD's resources. And because I'm also aware of the fact that Ward won't go anywhere without you."

"SHIELD could really use people like you, with Skye's skills and with your training, Ward. Not to mention the unique bond you both share, which makes you invaluable assets to the team and also pretty much indestructible."

Ward purses his lips at the mention of their bond and instinctively reaches a hand to place it on the small of Skye's back, gently drawing her closer and shifting his stance until she's half hidden behind him.

"Ward," Skye says, softly. "It's okay."

He gives her a small, worried look, but other than that, he makes no attempt to move, turning his attention back to Coulson instead.

"The Rising Tide is after us, and you want us to put ourselves out there? Not the most strategic plan, Coulson."

"They won't stand a chance," Coulson says with conviction. "There's only so much that I can do for a rogue agent, but if you're willing to work with us again, then my options won't be so limited."

Ward's hands curl into fists and his entire body is now humming with irritation and something else, something that feels too much like dread.

"Look, Coulson," Skye interjects before Ward has the chance to say anything. "Even if we did accept to consider this… _offer_, I have no training. I don't know the first thing about any of this. That makes me a risk, not an asset."

"That's where Ward comes in," Coulson says, completely unfazed, and Skye has to wonder just how much thought he has put into this, since he seems to have an answer to every single one of their objections. "He can handle your training, as your SO."

"Wait, SO?"

"Supervising officer," Ward says through gritted teeth.

"If you are willing to take the job, Skye will need one. Someone disciplined, someone good," Coulson says with a fond smile. "And I can't think of anyone better."

Ward is by now pinching the bridge of his nose, and Skye knows that he's running out of patience, and Coulson must notice as well, because he sighs, fishes a small, white business card out of his pocket and hands it over to Skye.

"You have twenty four hours," he says after Skye accepts the card. There's an address written on it, but nothing else. "That's our meeting point. Hopefully, I will see you both there tomorrow morning."

He nods in Ward's direction and smiles warmly at Skye before letting himself out the door and disappearing into the busy street.

**xxx**

"No."

"I didn't even say anything!"

"I know you, I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no."

Skye hops onto the kitchen counter and watches in silence as he busies himself making lunch. She playfully kicks him on the shin and when he blatantly ignores her, she huffs, frustrated.

"Would you at least listen to me? Or my opinion doesn't matter to you?"

"You know that's not true," he says with a frown.

"Well, good, because I think I have a right to say something about this, what with me being your soulmate and all."

His gaze automatically drops to his left wrist and his eyes trace the tiny S for a long moment before he finally gives in and moves to stand in front of her, his hands settling on her hips as she wraps her legs around his thighs to keep him from pulling away.

"Alright, I'm listening."

"I'm tired of running away, Ward," she says. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life hiding in safe houses."

"And you think joining Coulson's team, _SHIELD_, is going to be better than this?"

"Yes?" she says, eyebrows raised. "We can either keep hiding forever or go out there and fight. And besides, you heard what Coulson said, we're kind of indestructible."

Skye waits for his answer, but when she's met with nothing but silence, and Ward's frown seems to deepen as he lowers his eyes, she gingerly grabs his chin and tilts his head up, forcing him to look at her.

"I want to do this, but I want to do it with you," she says softly. "And I know you want it, too. You're just being difficult," she adds, grinning when he rolls his eyes.

"You want to be a field agent, like Coulson?" he asks.

She nods with enthusiasm and he sighs, defeated, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he closes his eyes and hugs her tightly to his chest.

"I love you," she whispers in his ear, her hands rubbing his back soothingly.

He pulls back then, and cupping her cheeks in his hands, he kisses her as if his life depended on it.

(And in a way, he thinks it does.)


	7. End of the Beginning II

**A/N:** Alright folks, we have come to the end of this story. Or rather, to the end of _this_ part of the story. There will be an epilogue after this chapter, and then I'm ending it there. However, I'm not quite done with this AU yet, so there will definitely be more of it in the near future. :)

* * *

The address on the card turns out to be the address to an airfield, one that Ward had no idea it even existed in the first place. But then again, this is SHIELD and he's not exactly surprised.

They make it to a hangar, where they find a ridiculously huge plane parked inside, and as they are climbing the cargo ramp, they are greeted by two overly excited agents who quickly introduce themselves.

"You must be agent Ward and Skye! This is Fitz," the girl says grinning at them while pointing to the guy next to her.

"Simmons," he says without missing a beat, and pointing to her. "She's biochem, I'm engineering."

Skye raises her eyebrows, and then turns to look at Ward, who's now looking rather tense and eyeing the two scientists with mild disapproval. Skye's fingers gingerly wrap around his wrist and her thumb begins to rub soothing circles over his marks, and he seems to relax almost immediately.

FitzSimmons walk them inside, chattering a mile a minute about the plane's newly equipped lab, and then proceed to lead them up a spiral staircase to the second level where, they inform them, the living quarters and the lounge area are located.

"Officially," Fitz explains to them as they walk. "It's an airborne mobile command station, but we call it _the BUS_. We find it best to use shorthand when in the field. But everything has to be just so, you know, because of the danger," he adds, looking pointedly at Ward.

"I know," he says, exasperated and barely able to suppress an eye roll. "I've been up here before." And Skye promptly elbows him in the ribs, giving him a stern look that warns him to behave.

When they reach the bunks area, FitzSimmons point to the ones on their right, stating that they are the only two left, and then quickly excuse themselves to go back to the lab, downstairs.

Without wasting another second, Skye throws her bags onto her new, tiny bed and then pokes her head into Ward's bunk, right next to hers, narrowing her eyes when she sees his equally tiny bed.

"I guess this means no bunking together, then," she sighs sadly.

Ward lets out something that sounds a lot like a snort and after looking around to make sure that they are alone, he slides his arms around her waist and pulls her to him. "Feeling regret yet?" he teases her.

"Nope," she quickly answers, tilting her chin up in defiance. She makes a small pause and then her eyes turn serious all of a sudden. "They don't know about-" she trails off, biting her bottom lip.

Ward shakes his head and reaches for her hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the inside of her wrist. "Just Coulson," he mumbles, lips pressed against her warm skin.

"And we can't tell them, either," Skye says, and it comes out as more of a statement than as a question, since she's pretty sure she knows the answer already.

"It's not safe, for them or for us," he says, releasing her wrist and stepping away from her, the corners of his lips curving up into a tiny smirk when Skye makes a small noise of protest.

She takes a step forward, getting a hold of his wrist and tugs on it, but before she gets the chance to make another move, Coulson is suddenly _right there_, and so she quickly releases Ward's hand, her cheeks flushing pink much to his amusement.

He gives them both a welcoming nod and fondly claps Ward on the shoulder.

"Glad you could make it," he says.

Ward tilts his head in Skye's direction and says, "Her idea." But if Coulson's knowing smile is anything to go by, Skye knows Ward is not fooling him one bit.

"Sweet ride," she says with a grin.

"I had a little good will from director Fury when I got hit before the battle of New York," Coulson explains, like it's not a big deal.

"You took a bullet?!"

"-ish."

Ward grimaces at the memories while Skye blatantly gapes at the two of them, but just when she's about to press for more details, she's interrupted by a woman that much like Coulson, seems to have materialized out of _nowhere._

"Wheels up in ten," she says. She glances at Ward and then looks Skye up and down, raising an eyebrow at Coulson. "You're adding a third kid?"

Coulson's face remains blank, and he makes no comment. He takes the tablet she's offering him, looks it over and then gives it back. Before any of them can say anything, the woman is gone.

"Was that _Melinda May_?" Ward asks incredulously.

"She's the pilot," Coulson nods in confirmation.

"The Cavalry is _just_ the pilot?"

"Don't call her that," Coulson chastises him. "She hates that name."

"Who's the Cavalry?" Skye asks, brow furrowed in confusion, feeling like she's missing a piece of very important information that Ward neglected to tell her.

"The pilot," Coulson replies, and Skye glares at him when he gives her what it attempts to pass off as an innocent smirk. "Briefing in thirty minutes, be ready."

**xxx**

"You're nervous," Skye says from her spot on the spiral staircase. She's been watching him in curious silence as he put on his tactical gear and then adjusted the straps of his black Kevlar vest.

He opens his mouth to answer with a rotund no, to say that he's fine, but thinks better of it after a moment. What would be the point, really? She is going to feel the cold, hard bite of his lie just like he is feeling her concern softly prodding at his chest and forehead, looking for any signs of distress.

"It's been a while since the last time I did this," he says instead, putting the gun in its holster after checking the magazine. "Maybe I'm rusty."

"And it has nothing to do with me going in there with you," she says, pulling herself up to her feet and walking over to him, taking the vest he's holding for her.

"It has everything to do with that, and you know it," he says with a frown, and now it's his turn to watch as she puts the vest on. He follows her movements with concerned eyes, making sure she's doing it correctly, and even after she's done and he _knows_ she did it right, he still takes a minute to double check all the straps.

"Coulson thinks I can do it, and _I want_ to do it," Skye says, her eyes brimming with fierce determination. "Besides, if I get in trouble, you'll be the first to know."

"You won't shut me out, right?"

Skye shakes her head no and worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "Never again," she whispers.

"The connection stays open, at all times," he says, trying to sound stern, but his voice wavers a little, making his words sound more like a plea than anything else.

"Roger that."

He nods as she gets closer and places her hands on his chest, her fingers splaying over his heart as she looks up at him. "Partners?" she asks, looking up at him with a grin and big, hopeful eyes.

He chuckles, and leans in to press a kiss to her forehead. "Partners."


	8. Epilogue

"I know you're there," Skye says, hands suspended in mid-air just as she was about to hit the punching bag, and rolling her shoulders to shake off that familiar feeling that tickles her spine every time she senses his presence near her.

It's been weeks since they joined the team, weeks since Ward stepped into the role of her SO, and weeks since their lives were turned upside down for the umpteenth time.

And yet, some things haven't changed at all.

She hears him climb down the spiral staircase, and then his arms are circling her waist from behind as he pushes her hair aside with his nose to kiss the back of her neck, making her shudder.

"You need to stop creeping up on me," she huffs, and he laughs against her neck.

"Sorry," he says in a tone that clearly indicates he's actually not sorry at all. "You've been down here for hours," he adds. "You need a break."

"Is that my SO talking or my soulmate slash boyfriend?"

He grins at that, and Skye closes her eyes with a sigh as she leans back against his chest and allows the comforting wave of his emotions to wash over her. There's the familiar, never-ending string of love, tied tightly around her wrist, but now laced with something she can only describe as _pride_.

There's nothing exactly new about that, but the intensity in which she can feel it now, definitely is.

"What's going on?" she asks, turning around in his arms and looking up at him with curious eyes.

"I have something for you," he says, taking a step back and reaching into his pocket to produce something that looks like a leather wallet, but that has SHIELD's logo emblazoned on it.

He hands it to her and Skye hesitates for a second before taking it and opening it, revealing the SHIELD badge inside.

Her eyes go wide with surprise, and for what it's probably the first time in her life, she's at a complete loss for words.

She looks up at Ward, who's standing there, grinning like an idiot, and letting out a happy squeal, she throws her arms around his neck, badge clutched tightly in her hand.

He presses a kiss to her temple and says, "Welcome to SHIELD, Skye."


End file.
